


My Lady Wife-Pilot

by CaptainOfTheKryptonSpacemarines



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, DC Elseworlds, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Falling In Love, Krypton, Kryptonian Margaery, Politics, Westerosi Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOfTheKryptonSpacemarines/pseuds/CaptainOfTheKryptonSpacemarines
Summary: Since she was little, Sansa had dreamt of marrying a handsome Lord and having children with him.Then Demons appeared and she, instead, finds herself wed to a woman from the sky.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. (Un)conventional Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in Tumblr for the 'Sansasource' event, posted here for posterity.

Margry purrs when she sleeps. 

Margry's snore is not a tender snore of the kind that is so quiet you can barely hear it. Sansa has held sleeping kittens while they sleep and she can swear by the Gods-The Old and the New- that her wife’s snore is that same sound but on a bigger, louder scale.

'My wife' Sansa thinks, sinking further into the bed as the words echo louder and louder in her mind.

Marrying a woman had never been a thing Sansa had thought about. She had read the Seven-Pointed Star and knew of the Old Gods enough to know that she was expected to marry a Lord, be his wife and have his babies. But then the Demons appeared with their Sky Castles and their weapons of light and fire, murdering anyone in sight. And behind them came Margry’s people, bearing the banners of an Empire none had ever heard of and the words of a Lord the people of Westeros had learned to fear like one is meant to fear the Gods.

The Master of Krypton and the Kryptonian Empire became words whispered in the reverent fear Septons used to talk of the Seven Heavens and the Seven Hells. The Kryptonians protected them, explained they were sorcerers and told anyone who would listen about how Westeros had become entangled in a war both sides had waged for decades due to reasons that simply escaped our grasp.

That had been taken as an insult at first, but then the Kryptonians appeared with their own Sky Castles and the War in Heaven roared with the fury of Gods above, our only protection the benevolence of their Emperor and the loyalty of His people to His commands, making them realize they were understating the truth.

When the ash settled in Westeros enough for the Lords to meet, they did so under unbelievable circumstances: King Robert and Queen Cersei dead, the Throne in Myrcella’s hands by Right and under Stannis’ by Law and House Gardener erased from history, their lands turned to glass by a Demon spell. Quickly, it was decided that negotiations with this Emperor were to be had and alliances to be made, to which the Kryptonians were incredibly supportive.

But then marriages to secure the alliance were brought into discussion and the Kryptonians started acting as if they had been slighted.

Sansa later learned they had been surprised we’d be so bold, considering their powers and our ‘ignorance of the greater things behind the war’. But they, like in so many things, proved far superior by agreeing to our requests, as long as we agreed to theirs. Sansa doesn’t know the full extend of them beyond what concerns her: They asked for a woman from ‘a Great House of Westeros’ to be married to one of their own 'Great Houses'. Sansa’s blooming beauty had started to be known before the Demons appeared, thus she was the first, and quickly learned, the only to be wed to a Kryptonian.

The shock when a so-called Vreness Margry Maez-Tyrell spoke the groom’s vows in what remained of the Great Sept of Baelor can’t be spoken, nor could the explanation this was to assure the Lords of Westeros this had been done to assure us nothing would happen to the brides believed.

Sansa’s mother was enraged, proclaiming the honor of House Stark had been insulted, but Stannis declared nothing could be done and that he was certain the Kryptonians would do Sansa no harm. However all other marriages would not be had until this ‘union’ could be determined to be worth the scandalous blasphemy.

Sansa is too paralyzed by fear to think of anything else than this "edict" in the hours they’re left alone for the sake of apperances, surrounded by sorcery.

Margry never separates from something that reminds Sansa that her Lady Wife is not Westerosi, or from any land known or unknown to Westeros for that matter: Light stored and ready to be summoned with a slight move of a finger, objects that whisper things into Margry's ear and to which Margry speaks in turn, ghosts enslaved to the will of the Kryptonians like a slave from Astapor and through which other foul devices come to life, and wicked objects that allow Margry to talk to others continents away lie spread across the room along with others Sansa dares not ask the function of for fear the knowledge will shatter her mind.

So, Sansa lies silently in her bed at night wondering how long until that happens anyway and in this fear, she reasons, her mind looks for comfort and finds it in Margry’s purrs of all places.

Sansa moves slowly and gently in her place until she’s facing her wife, even in the dark of their room Sansa can tell her wife's eyes are moving beneath closed eyelids so fast the redhead can see the movement. Her Lady Wife is beautiful in the eyes of the Westerosi -far more beautiful than Sansa, the northener sometimes thinks- and is knowledgeable in the things of her Empire like few, if any, were knowledgeable of the matters of Westeros. She commands and is obeyed with the authority of a King, to the point at times Sansa truly ponders upon the possibility that she’s been married to a Kryptonian man and they’re decieved by his looks.

But Sansa has seen Ser Royers and Ser Sob-Eck, as well as the soldiers of the Kryptonian Imperial Army that now protect them, and knows that Westerosi and Kryptonians are alike in regards to how men and women look like. It is simply that Kryptonian men and women are alike in everything else but looks: The women fight with men, alongside men and order men even. Kryptonian men cook, clean and sew like Westerosi women -better even, thanks to their sorcery- if that’s their trade and there’s little difference in treatment besides the respect owed to rank or birth.

The small folk of Krypton that have come here as footsoldiers talk to Margry like it is said Father and King Robert once spoke to one another, and Margry acts likewise with the small folk of Westeros that day after day arrive to Winterfell, brought here by the Kryptonians in their horseless, metal carriages.

An unnatural bell rings its sweet chime -unheard of anywhere in the world a year ago- in a beautiful song out of many it knows; one Sansa has learned means someone of importance summons Margry to have words related to business of the upmost importance and Margry rouses in an instant, her eyes opening as if forced wide open. Margry, Sansa has learned, is a woman of endless energy and as such, she leaves the bed without staggering or any other sign of drowsiness.

Sansa watches in silence as her wife brings a pebble-sized object to her ear and speaks in Kryptonian, pacing around the room as she does. The moonlight that enters the room allows Sansa to see her wife’s features better, and it is in moments like this that she sees why the small folk has taken to think of her as The Maiden herself: Long curls of brown hair that flow like silk around a face so beautiful the Gods must have wept in joy when such a thing came to be; a kind smile that seems to promise an unending summer and the body of a lady in the summer of her years, blessed with everything any woman would want and need to capture any man she would desire. 

‘ _And yet, she’s married to another woman_ ’ Sansa thinks to herself as she sees Margry walk as silently as a mouse around their room for untold time until, suddenly, Margry chirps and tweets like a bird before cooing like a newborn -signals that tell Sansa this had been a pleasant conversation with someone dear to the Kryptonian- to then withdraw the black object from her ear.

“Deespest apologies, _Tsantsa_ -“ Margry says as she places the item where it had been.

“Pleasant conversation, Milady?“ Sansa asks after a moment of hesitation, never knowing exactly what to say to the woman she’s married to.

“Quite so. My father-“ Margry says ‘father’ with a love that Sansa knows deep down to be the love a daughter has for a loving father, like the one she has for her Lord father Eddard. “He insists to have words with yours. I keep telling him the experience might shatter his mind, yet he insists, thus we must have a conversation about possible scenarios that, I must admit, entretains me“

Once Sansa would’ve taken that as an insult to her father, nowadays she knows it to be an earnest opinion that is based on the reactions of others.

“What does he wish to talk about with my Lord Father?“ Sansa asks, voice trembling at the thought of the kind of man (if he’s such a thing) responsible for the siring of such a daughter as Margry.

“He wishes to welcome him to the family-“ Margry answers as she releases some light from one of the oddly shaped cages that are in the room “In Krypton, weddings join houses and mix families. It is custom for fathers to start considering each other brothers and mothers to treat each other as sisters; my father wishes to start that process with yours“

“Would he project his soul here?” Sansa asked with dread, the memory of the time she’d seen the Kryptonians do such things almost making her faint like she had back then.

Margry simply smiled and answered.

“No, I refuse to even consider such a thing after what happened with you. I’d like to remind you, however: We don’t project our souls, we project our image.” Margry gesticulated, raising a finger as she said the second half of the explanation “Our devices allow us to project how we look across great distances, in a similar way to how this other device lets us project our voices“

“And he’d never dare be close to witchcraft like yours-“ Sansa said before hastingly adding “Milady“

“Quite so-“ Margry responded before covering Sansa gently with the bedsheet “Now, go to sleep. I must work, I’ll procure to be quiet about it”

“You have slept but a few hours, Milady-” Sansa spoke somewhat worried “It can’t be healthy to sleep so little as often as you do“

Sansa realized she'd just confessed in that instant to having noticed how Margry slept just a few hours into the night before waking to start working once more, and the confession made her blush for reasons she could not name.

“I…am honored-that you worry about my health“ Margry spoke slowly, clearly caught off guard “Rest assured I do not risk anything. My people sleep little“

“You can’t possibly sleep _that_ little“ Sansa said bluntly, forgetting herself and before she could do anything else, Margry grabbed her hand in order to bring it to her chest, placing it where her heart was-the opossite side of where Sansa and every other Westerosi had it.

“I am this different-“ Margry reminded Sansa as the redhead started feeling the distinct, faint pulse of Margry's second heart “So, please my Lady Wife, believe me when I tell you I don’t sleep much“

Sansa nodded, her minute affirmation making Margry smile tenderly. The Kryptonian leaned in and placed a soft, tender kiss on her wife’s brow that the redhead barely felt before saying.

“Sleep well, Milady.“

Sansa fell back into her bed and for once, she actually did; dreaming of sorcery and her wife controlling it.


	2. Nights in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a cold Northern night, Sansa and Margry bond

Nights here are horridly cold.

Margry has become used to the feeling, but she has not yet welcomed it like her wife’s mother does. She know it’s most likely due to the fact that Catelyn has been exposed to years of winters, both in the Riverlands and in The North, but nevertheless this night makes Margry wonder if she'll ever be able to withstand cold like this. As she checks for the fifth time in twice those many minutes if the heater is on to see that yes, it is on and it is at full intensity. A bit of akwardness ensues when she notices Sansa sweating next to it, still too shocked at the fact that a seemingly harmless piece of metal can ‘warm’ the room like this,

“Would you like me to lower the intensitiy?“ Margry asked as she summoned her Omnitool with a flick of her wrist, ready to endure yet more cold in the name of her marriage.

“No, milady-“ Sansa is startled to the point she almost jumps to her feet, only to relax in a second “I am probably just too close to it“

“Most likely-“ Margry smiled fondly at the sight of Sansa almost cuddling the damn thing, then a thought appeared in her mind “Please, do not touch it with your bare hands. Or at all, unless you wish to know what holding a red-hot iron feels like“

“A little too late for that I’m afraid“ Sansa showed Margry her palm without being able to look at the Kryptonian. It was already starting to show the signs of a nasty burn and the mere sight of it made Margry jump from where she sat.

‘ _Out-fucking-standing_ ‘ The Kryptonian swear boomed like a thunder in the quiet room. Margry quickly moved towards her bag, digging desperately for the first-aid lotion she had in there.

“I’m sorry, Milady-“ Sansa spoke up, her voice broken by the threat of tears “I should’ve known that-“

“I should’ve listened-“ Margry interrupted whatever Sansa was about to say as she removed the cap and approached her wife, looking into her eyes as she knelt “I truly did not hear when you surely must’ve yelped at the burn. At the very least, you must've made a hissing sound after the burn“

“I kept it to myself-“ Sansa answered, hidding her hand when Margry tried to reach for it “You were so focused on...whatever witchcraft you were doing“

“Even if I have it in marriage, I would like your hand once again-“ Margry joked as she reassured the redhead “this time to heal it“

Sansa blushed but complied after a few moments of hesitation and as Margry was about to spray the lotion, she decided to speak one of the ‘White Lies’ she’d been asked to say when sent here.

“This is a...potion. Well, more than a potion a sort of... _cream_?“ Margry hated this akwardness above the lying, but hated even more the lack of language that could be used to explain what she was about to do “It is enchanted and should make the burn go away“

“Should?” Sansa asked and Margry knew she couldn’t go into the specifics on the account of herself knowing next to nothing of biology.

“Kryptonian magics might not work the same on non-Kryptonians” Margry answered, then pressed the head of the bottle and smiled as Sansa jolted with every touch of the spray.Margry applied the lotion reverently in a contemplative silence that allowed her to appreciate how beautiful the hands of her wife were. She prayed the lotion worked, for the thought of burn marks marring something so beautiful truly was a jarring one. 

“And seemingly, sometimes Kryptonian magics do not work _on_ Kryptonians“ Sansa quipped all of the sudden and Margry laughed loudly and without the slightest hint of control until she was on the floor, twitching with joyus amusement. She tried to get it under control, but it simply wouldn’t stop coming out of her and this made Sansa smile fondly.

This, somehow and for reasons Margry couldn’t comprehend, helped Margry get a grip on her laughter; not because it was unsettling to see Sansa smile. Quite the opossite, the shy smile the redhead had was a truly beautiful sight that made Margry want to stare at it with the analysis due to the forms and paperwork of their matrimonial contract.

Without Margry realizing, a kind silence started to take over the room that, in a truly magical fashion, vanished the bone-chilling cold that was here just a few moments ago.

“I am pleased to entretain you, milady“ Sansa broke the silence, her tender smile not leaving her beautiful face.

“How’s your hand?“ Margry asked and Sansa brought her palm in front of Margry’s face.

“It was feeling numb and stiff, like burning my hand on a hot pot of soup but all over my palm, I was about to leave you to your sorcery-“ Sansa said as Margry saw the clear signs of the burn all but gone “but now I can enjoy the heat of your magics, milady“

“I hope you can enjoy my company too.“ Margry said, half-meaning her wish. Margry hated hoping for things, and was more of the idea of working towards getting them. But in this, if she could have it? The akwardness gone and the company of a woman with such promise as Sansa held?

That was something worth hoping for.


	3. Queen Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margry's work with the locals

Margry entered the room and as usual, all eyes were on her. This time, she hoped it was because she was wearing a local dress instead of the usual Kryptonian outfits that had caused such fascination -and a bit of scandal- amongst the Westerosi.

"Hail, Queen Myrcella" Margry broke the reigning silence with the greeting, that then was accompanied by a vow that was more an exaggerated nod than anything else.

 _"Broness_ Tyrell-" Master Tyrion tried and failed to pronounce Margry's title, the failure announced to him in the way the Baroness' mouth twitched into a loopsided grin for a second "Gods, I swear I will pronounce that correctly one day"

"The fact you try is the important thing, Lord Lannister-" Margry answered before greeting everyone else in the room, a nod to each "Lord Baratheon, Lord Varys, greetings. Apologies for the delay, I had an... _impromptu_ meeting with General Ny-Borg"

"Pardon?" Lord Varys asked, already dreading the answer.

"Through our sorceries, I was able to speak with General Ny-Borg about the War in Essos" Margry hoped the mention of sorcery would obviate the fact Margry was in King's Landing while General Ny-Borg was in Lys; a task accomplished, if the way Lord Varys straigthened in his chair and swallowed was of any indication.

"How fares the war?" Lord Stannis asked, unfazed by any of this, as it was his way; something to which Margry had always been grateful about, this time being no exception.

"Lys should fall within the week, however the Rhoyne is still being adeptly used by the enemy as as moat. Genearl Ny-Borg wishes me to inform Queen Myrcella and her council that once Lys falls, she will focus on Qohor and not Volantis as previously announced." Margry took her seat oposite of them as she kept explaining "Other than that, the plan is unchanged: Ride the Dothraki Sea until the Bone Mountains where they're to meet the other pincer of the army, which I am told is faring well in Yi Ti."

"What is the situation in Slaver's Bay?" Master Tyrion asked and Margry's sigh told him more than her actual answer.

"Unchanged: Bastards are still cowering underneath their...protective magical spell and we cannot get it to cave in yet."

"What is the word?" Queen Myrcella asked ever curious, noticing the pause Margry made "The direct translation from Kryptonian"

"Shield" Margry answered quickly, and this made everyone chuckle lowly.

"Lady Tyrell, I think we can call it shield, even if it's not an actual shield" Lord Tyrion said "I imagine it something akin to the one above us right now"

"Yes, but it's proving to be stronger than it, reason why General Ny-Borg is considering to meet with the other pincer and then taking Slaver's Bay"

"I still can't believe you people were able to land on Ulthos and Sorthoryos, are bringing the Islands of the Summer and Jade Sea under your control; and yet the task of taking Slaver's Bay is proving to be too much."Lord Stannis said, his voice had such fascination that Margry took no insult in what he had said. She'd heard he'd never been one to take care of his phrasing.

"Well, considering the enemy is making a keep out of the Bay, the Rhoyne its moat; and Valyria interferring with our magics, I say we're doing well." Margry kept to herself the tirade of insults that came to mind at the perceived questioning of their capabilities.

"How fare things in Westeros, Milady" Queen Myrcella, proving wise beyond her years, changed the subject to what actually concerned them.

"We keep finding survivors in the Westerlands, The North is mostly freed and Lord Baelish is working on settling matters in The Vale. Given he's the local, I'll await for him to evaluate the situation there before saying anything" Margry felt her stomach sink before continuing with the worse-off parts of the realm "As of today, Dorne is officially lifeless and the same goes for anything west of Tumbleton"

"Nothing was spared?" Lord Varys asked, seemingly still unused to the death and destruction, despite the numerous occasions this had already been discussed.

"Nothing and no one" Margry responded, her nonchalance making the statement far more somber than anything in her voice.

"Which brings us to the matter we'd wish to discuss with you-" Queen Myrcella said, rather fearfully; this told Margry what they were going to ask right away, but decided to let them think she'd still hadn't caught on. After all there was no need to rush things, not right now anyway. "We would like-"

"We formally ask you-"Stannis corrected his niece "If there is anything your people can do for these lands. Your magics have proven to be quite powerful, so we'd be _indebted_ to you if you could heal them in some way"

Stannis smelled the catch in asking for their help, if the way he said 'indebted' was of any indication; and Margry played her hand.

"Yes-" Margry sat back and recited the answer she'd been rehearsing since the matter was first brought to attention "The devastation of your lands is something The Empire of Krypton laments profoundly, Queen Myrcella. As part of our oath to help you recover from this tragedy, we had already contemplated restoring the lands that bore the worst part of the enemy's assault. This was not previously discussed because we were waiting for the enemy to be completely defeated, however that victory seems to be further and further away from us."

"Quite-" Lord Tyrion said absentmindedly, most likely thinking aloud accidentally. Once he realized he'd spoken outloud, he decided to speak his mind fully "Quite as regretful as that is, I must, on behalf of the Queen that is, ask what exactly can be done for Dorne and The Reach"

"We can undo the damage completely-" Margry said without a hint of pride, which in turn demonstrated a full dominion of herself that awed the Lords and Lady gathered in the room. Margry seized the opportunity to start her move towards the actual point she wanted to discuss "There is however a...slight inconvenience"

Stannis looked every bit the man who knew this was coming, Varys look astonished at the notice that the Kryptonians could be inconvenienced at all and Tyrion's mouth dropped open at this. Queen Myrcella waited for someone to say something, but when no one did, she asked what was in everyone's mind

"Which is?"

"As you can understand, Queen Myrcella, we were attacked first. The whole war is about us, despite however it seems to be about you-" Margry placed her hands on the table, intertwinning her hands while extending out her index fingers, both touching and forming a tringle towards that pointed away from the Baroness "Kryptonian lands were destroyed, just like Dorne was. Kryptonian lands were burned like The Reach and left as lifeless as both. Thus, Kryptonian lands will be healed first"

"How long would it take you to start here?" Lord Tyrion asked, not imagining what the answer would be

"Two to two and a half centuries" Margry retorted simply, leaving everyone in a silent awe that made even Stannis look at the Kryptonian with their mouth open. Everyone jolted in ther seats when, after a minuted of akward silence, Margry spoke once more.

"We would not dare to leave you to your luck given the damage to your most fertile lands, so we'd naturally keep providing food for you as we have been doing so far-" Margry put all her willpower into not smilling as she said the next part "However, I would like to bring to your attention a less...formal approach"

"Which would be?" Lord Varys asked and it was his turn not to imagine what the answer would be, which made Stannis the wiser of them all.

"I think that is a conversation to be had between Lord Baratheon and myself" Margry answered and as Stannis sat back in his chair, he felt the gratifying sensation that is to be proven right about the worst that could happen.

"I agree-" Stannis spoke firmly "This meeting is adjourned, clear the room"

For once, everyone looked at Stannis as if he had a third eye somewhere on his face and he would've laughed at it, he had been able to.

"Uncle-" Queen Myrcella tried and failed to gain some respect from the man, but was easily shut down by a barely acknowledging 'Your Grace' that was more dismissive than the order to leave the room.

"Do not worry, Good Queen-" Margry said smoothly "Nothing of importance will be discussed"

Myrcella stood up, and as she did, so did Tyrion and Varys. All three left slowly and silent, the next sound heard in the room being that of the door being closed.

After a moment that streched on for an eternity in which both tried to stare each other down for the amusement it gave them to do such a thing, Stannis spoke with a hint of genuine enjoyment in his voice.

"So, The Reach-" Stannis tried to come up with a jape, but came up empty. Tyrion was the experienced one in that matter "What's the procedure"

"I'll spare you the lesson in Imperial law, Lord Baratheon-" Margry said as she sat back in her chair, becoming every bit the imposing figure she meant to look like "but essentially: If the lands were personally mine, I'd be able to hire sorcerers that would restore the lands without the need to wait for Imperial resources to be available."

"Who would pay for that?" Stannis asked guessing the answer but waiting, almost hoping, to be proven wrong.

"Your humble servant" Margry bowed her head in humility as she answered, and this genuinely made Stannis laugh.

"It is not a cheap endavour, is it?" Stannis decided to ask out of morbid curiosity.

"I'm afraid not-" Margry smiled knowingly, deciding to play her usual card "Fortunately, you had the wisdom to ask for a Kryptonian noble of importance to be married into an equally important family of these lands"

"Yes" He responded dryly "What do we get in return?"

"Other than your lands restored, and in the case of Dorne, elavated to new, fertile standards; what would you like?" Margry honestly could not guess what would be his demands and conditions, and so her question was genuine.

"Your tithes will be both in coin and foodstuffs and they'll be higher, much higher than those of the other realms. There will be no tolerance in delays once they are restored and you will obey and have our laws obeyed as if you were a Westerosi Lord-" Stannis dictated with barely contained wrath "You shall marry a Westerosi Lord-"

"I thought bigamy was outlawed in these lands, Stannis" Margry japed, to which Stannis reacted by bringing a clenched fist down on the table like a hammer.

"You may have witchcraft on your side but do not think us your playthings-" Stannis warned her sternly, both in voice and in looks, which made Margry all the more assured in her victory.

"I have something better than sorcery on my side, Lord Baratheon: Time-" Margry reminded the Lord Regent "which tends to be such an incredible, fickle thing, doesn't it? How fast it goes by for some, and how slow for others."

He had heard of such magics, as legends he had passed off as idiotic nonsense; but with Gods and Demons now waging war on the Known and Unknown World, he knew better than to expect her powers would diminish with the years. She'd stay young and lively, while they withered and died, and all she'd had to do was wait and ask someone else once he was gone. Someone who had grown up admiring and worshipping the floor she treads on.

"Do you accept the terms?" Stannis asked, chancing a neglectful mistake on Margry's part given her victory.

"No-" Margry answered "Withdraw the marriage"

"Withdrawn, all else?"

"That, I can agree to" Margry said with a smile while offering her hand for that 'handshake' tradition the Kryptonians had and as he took her hand in his, he prayed this would be all he would loose to sorcery.


	4. Reflexions and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sansa prays, she wonders what is it that she feels for her wife.

Ever since Margry arrived, Sansa spent time in the Godswood.

At first, it was a way for her to avoid the woman by pretending to be deep in prayer, but as time ran its course, Sansa had come to spend time in the Godswood actually praying, first for deliverance from Margry, and then one day she caught herself praying for her wife's well being.

' _Wife...such an odd thing to say from woman to woman_ ' Sansa thought every time the word made itself manifest in her mind, but for a while now that word and the name of the woman to whom the title was associated with had been appearing with a feeling she dared not name for fear of the Seven Hells. She'd obsessed over the part on sodomy of the Seven Pointed Star and prayed both in the sept and in the Godswood for deliverance from the feeling she had whenever anything related to Margry happened in Sansa's surroundings.

Sansa feared what she felt, knowing full well what it was: Love.

Love was the oddest thing. Sansa had grown up expecting to fall for a Westerosi man of the like of Ser Royers: Handsome, strong and a True Knight. Bearing the name of House Stark with her own made Sansa expect at least an influential Lord of the North, if not one of the Lords of Westeros and in more than a few nights she found herself memorizing the names of the sons of the Lords of Dorne and The Reach; imagining them calling her 'Sister-by-Law' and her answering kindly with the words 'Brother-by-Law'.

Now, that feeling, that feeling of fluttering butterflies and unbound tenderness for another that she'd heard so much about and dreamt for so long was associated to a woman. The most powerful woman in Westeros -nay, the world-.

Ser Sob-Eck had told Sansa of a belief Kryptonians held: In Krypton it is believed that the first men created were so powerful that the Gods came to fear their creations, thus they split them in half. Ever since, the soul looks for its other half in order to be whole again and in their union be everything the Gods intended and grew to fear. Soulmates, they call them.

Sansa once asked the knight if it could be possible for souls to be matched despite differences as great as the ones between Westeros and Krypton. Aloy laughed, before saying words that to this day haunt Sansa more than if the lady knight had told Sansa she was delusional in asking such questions.

' _Possible? Mi'lady, both of you in the same room are all the proof you need that it's possible to the point its happened already_ '

' _When? When had they become such a thing?_ ' Sansa asked in her prayers to the Old Gods and the New. When had Sansa deviated from scripture and nature so much that she blushed whenever Margry would look at her with those mesmerizing eyes and that smile that was so beautiful and breathtaking?

Had it been when, after Loras' death, Sansa had brought flowers to their room in order to comfort the grief-striken woman? When she realized she cared enough about what was said of Margry to defend the woman and her people whenever an insult towards them was uttered in her presence? When they decided to be friends, after realizing they actually liked each other's person enough to miss the other whenever Margry had business to tend to somewhere else, be that Essos, Ulthos, Sorthoryos or the Unknown World?

The protestations had been there at first, but now Sansa heard nothing but kind words of their marriage. Exceptions happened, but those instances were becoming rarer and rarer as time went by and their marriage became a normal thing to talk about, much like the marriage of her mother and father. To Sansa it had been the simplest of things, when she looked back in time through her memories: She accepted her wife was a Witch and that magic was a fundamental part of her life, a life devoted to serve her Emperor much like her Lord Father served King Robert and now did Queen Myrcella.

Margry never forced a thing upon Sansa, and went through great lengths to keep her from being exposed to magic the Kryptonian did not think her wife could handle the concept of.

Margry cared for her, and for all of them and she was just so lovable: From looks, to voice, to soul to deed. Everything she was and did was beautiful

The first time she was addressed as Lady Sansa Tyrell, she had been surprised but not in the way of her forgetting that they were married, but rather than someone would actually acknowledge their marriage as such; even with Margry now being the Lady of The Reach, some Lords barely recognized her at all as a person. Small folk, in their simple ways, were just glad to be fed and looked after with that caring touch her Lady Wife had that made them believe the Kryptonian was The Mother or The Maiden themselves.

The first time Sansa reached for Margry's hand, at Loras' funeral in that other world, she had done so out of a sense of sympathy for a woman that could barely stand as the plaque bearing her brother's name was placed over the remains of the slain brave. But Sansa had begun to find her hand in her wife's more often than not and never had she been displeased by that until she came to the sept or the Godwood; there it all came down upon her like a river of pebbles rushing towards her and pelting her to death.

The first time she dreamt of Margry taking her in the way a husband took a wife, Sansa felt fire. She worried it was hellfire brewing inside of her, burning her slowly for her unclean thoughts; but when she tried to get away from Margry to save her soul, only for her wife to be so clearly hurt Sansa almost fell to her knees in order to apologize, she knew there could be worse things than burning in the Seven Hells.

So now, she prays for something else, wondering if the Gods will grant it to her: She had prayed for a good match, a match that would make her happy and with whom she'd have plenty of healthy children. Now she had her match, but it wasn't what she had expected it to be, yet everything she could've asked for and even more than she'd once dared to imagine.

Now, she prays for a blessed long life with her love, her one true love who loves her with a passion that Sansa had only seen in the love her parents held for one another, from which five children had been born and a sixth was on the way.

Her Lady Wife was a blessing, even if the Gods of the South said otherwise; for in her heart of hearts, Sansa knew The Gods of the North said nothing because they had nothing to say to her. Sansa asked in her prayers if she was correct to make her peace with the fact that in loving her wife, there might be some fire in their future and this desperation at the thought that something so good and beautiful could be so bad made her wonder if she wasn't just loosing her time praying to empty statues and senseless trees.

She had heard someone say once to keep to what she knew:

She knew love and she knew Margry. She knew nothing of the Gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an overview of how I plan to reconcile Sansa's religious beliefs with her growing love for Margry. Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Might write it out in detail if there's interest in this crazy idea of mine.


End file.
